


Fated

by Nopholom



Category: The Magnificent Seven (2016)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Soulmates, First Kiss, First Meetings, First Time, Hurt/Comfort, M/M, Mild Blood
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-11-26
Updated: 2016-11-26
Packaged: 2018-09-02 09:47:10
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 3
Words: 5,406
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8662759
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Nopholom/pseuds/Nopholom
Summary: They were supposed to weave into the skin, that you’d go to sleep one night and like magic the words would curl onto your skin like spilled ink, finally starting to fade a little when you found your soulmate, you weren't meant to wake up screaming, covered in your own blood.





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Kink Meme Prompt: https://mag7-kink-meme.dreamwidth.org/1188.html?thread=68516#cmt68516 "The marks that appeared on your arm overnight are, as every fool knows, the name of your soulmate . . . or some kind of representation of your soulmate or clue to finding your soulmate, anyway. Looks like you've got some adventures ahead of you."
> 
> Sort of grim-dark take on it. I feel like it fits these two better.

“Don’t make me shoot you,” the voice was almost sad, weary, and the words sent a familiar rush down Billy’s spine, making his hands clench as his wrist nervously twitched upward, as if to remind him that those very words had been etched into his skin since before he’d left Korea.

“Why do you people always say that?” he countered, too many men had threatened him the same way, he’d accepted long ago that he may never find out who was _supposed_ to say those words, that he should keep his hopeful glance to himself, lest it get him shot.

“Wh…what?” surprise? He didn’t expect that, he glanced up, peering over his shoulder at the man who had caught him unaware, too busy dispatching his own assailants to notice a new one slip in the door with a rifle poised to shoot. The man looked mortified, eyes wide and rifle lowered as he stared dumbly at Billy, “You’re a man…” he said, making Billy frown, what did he expect? But then it started to dawn on him, Billy had heard those words a thousand times, all from men, he’d long since accepted that fate wanted him to share his soul with another man, but the first time he had heard one say those words, he’d been just as confused, scared even.

“I’m turning around,” Billy said slowly, lifting his hands into the air as he turned cautiously to face the other man; he looked as weary as Billy felt, weathered but solid, and as he met those confused blue eyes, something seemed to swell inside his chest, a mixture of hope, confusion, and a hint of resentment towards this stranger for not shooting him where he stood.

“Your arm,” he lifted the rifle, aiming it at Billy once more, gesturing to the scarring on Billy’s forearm, the writing he had blindly clawed into himself during some kind of uncontrollable fit when he was a child, in a language he hadn’t understood for _years_.

“What about it?” he asked dryly,

“What does it say?” the man asked, cocking the rifle in warning,

“What do you think it says?” he countered, he’d yet to be shot by one of the men speaking those words to him, it would only be fitting that the one who finally shot him was the one with _his_ words scratched into his own skin.

“Hopefully not a stammered _what_ ,” the man joked, as if that would get him out of the situation they were in, he approached Billy, pulling out a revolver and lowering the rifle, he was smart at least; he gestured the gun at Billy’s exposed forearm, “Show me,” he said, Billy offered him his arm, silent and waiting, the man propped his rifle against his thigh and grabbed Billy’s arm, twisting carefully and reading the red lines there, “Shit…” the man sighed, “ _shit_ ,” he repeated,

“You seem disappointed…” Billy noted as the man let him go,

“I’m here to kill you Mr Rocks,” he stated, meeting Billy’s gaze,

“Then do it, better you than someone else,” Billy challenged, watching the man’s shoulders sag and his weapon lower, Billy didn’t really know how to respond to that, if they were… if the writing meant what he’d been told all those years ago, then this weary, sad man was meant to meet him, something was meant to bloom between them, but he couldn’t see it himself, the man seemed _weak_ somehow, he wasn’t sure he could love a weak man.

“The gods are smiling on you Billy Rocks,” the man said, “The Angel of Death has bestowed upon you a rare and unlikely pardon,” he holstered his gun and grabbed his rifle, turning his back on Billy, leaving him stood there surrounded by unconscious men and completely at a loss for what to do. He stood there, arm still outstretched, until someone started to groan as they regained consciousness, the noise spurring him into action; he kicked the man in the face before darting from the saloon and onto the streets.

He stopped a woman, her expression mortified when she realised an _Asian_ had his hand on her,

“Miss, excuse me,” he said hurriedly, “I’m looking for a law man, grey coat, blue eyes, did you see him?” she gave him a disgusted look and jerked her shoulder from his loose grasp, hurrying away from him briskly. He cursed in his mother tongue, looking around for any sign of the man, he didn’t know the first thing about trying to find another person, so used to being on his own; he turned the other way, torn between trying to find the man and just leaving the town entirely. He opted for the latter, heading briskly for the livery where his horse was being looked after for him, not looking back as a man staggered into the saloon behind him.

He didn’t have his saddlebags, he realised once he’d finished tossing tack onto his horse, letting out an irate exhale when it occurred to him that he was going to have to go back to the bar; he turned around, intending to do exactly that, but ended up face to face with a group of law men, all aiming guns at him.

“Uh…”

“You’re under arrest, Chinaman,” one of them barked, “A man died in that bar room brawl,” That hadn’t been Billy, the man had gotten shot by one of Billy’s attackers, _was_ one of Billy’s attackers, but that didn’t matter. “Gonna be the last time you kill one of us, you dirty scum sucker,” he added, sending one of his men towards Billy with a set of cuffs, the man bumbling slightly, nervous of approaching a man who had beaten an entire room full of men. He swallowed nervously at the metal, getting horrid flashes of his journey to America, it seemed like he’d be leaving this place in irons as well.

He let them arrest him, he didn’t want to die bleeding, if it went well the hanging they promised him would be a lot less painful, unless of course he _suffocated_ rather than broke his neck; he sat quietly in a cell, awaiting the following morning when it would happen, sitting on the dusty old cot with his knees drawn to his chest, sighing miserably at his prospects. It would seem that people like him were destined to die shortly after discovering their soulmate, would the other man even miss him if they hadn’t bonded? It was an upsetting thought, one he couldn’t bear to think about, so he lay down on his side, faced the wall, and tried to sleep, at least if he slept death would come quickly.

“Chinaman!” a man snapped, startling Billy awake sometime later,

“That was quick…” he yawned, he didn’t think he’d slept _that_ long, he looked around as he sat up, noticing that it was dark outside, were they planning on hanging him before dawn? It barely even looked like _dusk_. The jailor unlocked the cell and gave Billy a disgusted look when he offered his hands to be shackled,

“You’re free to go,” he said, making it sound like the worst thing he’d ever had to say,

“What?”

“Witness came forward, said you didn’t shoot Jackson,” the man explained, muttering something about goddamn Asians wriggling out of everything. What kind of witness would have had to say that for these men to believe that an Asian hadn’t killed that man? He was given his saddlebags, they’d procured them from the saloon before coming to arrest him, and shoved out the door, where he was stopped on the stoop by a voice,

“Are you _tryin’_ to get yourself killed?” it was _him_ , Billy whirled to face him,

“No,”

“Then what the hell were you still doin’ in town?” the man asked,

“I… forgot these…” he admitted, it had been careless of him, but the whole confusion with this man had spurred it, “Did you…?” he trailed off, gesturing idly to the jailhouse behind him,

“Yes, I said that you were somethin’ of a friend of mine, that you didn’t kill that idiot in there,” he stated, “So you should be fine,”

“Why would me being your friend make me fine?” he asked, frowning,

“Oh… excuse me, how rude, the name’s Goodnight Robicheaux,” he offered his hand then, Billy taking it, shaking it, seeing the way his wrist pushed free of his sleeve, barely visible silvery scars seeming to spell ‘ay that’, likely the whole thing said ‘Why do you people always say that’, god it was real, they’d said those words to one another. He didn’t know the name though, and he realised that Goodnight was coming to that conclusion on his own, “I have something of a reputation, I fear it hasn’t made it to your ears, though that might be for the better,” he gave a weary smile and released Billy’s hand, walking away from him once more, though he stopped a few paces away, turning to look at him, “I’ll buy you a drink in the next town, we’ve got a lot to talk about,” they did, that much was true, and Billy found himself following Goodnight, the two collecting their horses and hightailing it out of town before the law could stick anything else to Billy that wasn’t his fault.


	2. Chapter 2

They had been travelling together for several months, awkwardly edging around one another, uncertain and uneasy with the prospect of their apparent bond,

“Do you remember when it happened?” Goodnight, or Goody as Billy had taken to calling him, had asked, Billy frowned, the question was out of the blue, seemingly without context as they sat outside, poking at a campfire and hoping that the bitter chill they’d felt that afternoon wasn’t a forecast for snow in the night. He didn’t answer, waiting for Goody to elaborate as he tended to when Billy’s silences drew out, “Your words, do you remember making them?” _making them_ , Goody knew that Billy had done this to himself, he was the first one to come to that conclusion, though he’d shown the marks to many throughout his childhood.

“I do…” he said quietly, he wasn’t sure if he could explain it, it had _terrified_ his mother, she had cried so openly that he’d thought he was sick or broken, that whatever it was he’d done to himself was a sign he was destined to die. “It… hurt…” he said quietly, drawing his knees up to his chest and into a child-like embrace, hating how vulnerable thinking about this made him feel,

“My mama said they were supposed to weave into the skin, that you’d go to sleep one night and like magic the words would curl onto your skin like spilled ink, finally starting to fade a little when you found your soulmate,” Goody sighed, “It wasn’t like that for me, and given your scars, I am inclined to believe it wasn’t like that for _you_ either,” he’d been told a similar thing by _his_ mother, when she’d finally stopped crying and holding him like he was something precious and fragile, something she may never get to hold again.

Silence fell between them, not uncomfortable, just an acknowledgement that what they wanted to say wasn’t easy, that it was dredging up painful memories, clawing through wet dirt to find their own personal Pandora’s Box, fingers bloody and chilled to the bone by the time they hit that familiar guilted wood.

“I woke up screaming…” Billy confessed finally, glancing past his folded arms at Goody, who snapped up at him, alert, “I woke up screaming and covered in blood, mother said I was having a fit, practically frothing at the mouth, clawing at my skin like something was under it that I couldn’t get out,” he could see recognition in Goody’s eyes, a familiar painful memory flashing across his face like Billy was narrating his childhood, the rest of his scars had faded over time, but those words stayed pinkish silver, shimmering on his skin and enunciated by the dark tan he’d gained since coming to America. “I used to be excited about it, when other kids got that writing, but I couldn’t even _read_ mine, I didn’t know English, but I paraded it about, bloody cuts in my arm, because I was _different_ , and maybe that meant what I’d have would be better,” it sounded stupid, but it was how he’d felt as a kid, and most other kids were impressed, even if their parents were disgusted or scared of whatever the cuts had meant.

“Do you think…” Goody said slowly, shaking his head and falling quiet again, a quiet Goody was unsettling, Billy knew that much by now, so he tried to coax him into continuing,

“What?” he pressed, Goody looked up at him and shrugged,

“I knew a boy with those scars that ended up killing himself,” he admitted, “I never knew why, but meeting you, it’s been weighing heavy on my mind,” he sighed, he looked like the entire world was conspiring against him, weighing him down and making him seem so much older, when they’d discovered that they were months apart and Billy had been born first. “Your mama and daddy, they have ink or scars?” Goody asked,

“Ink,” Billy answered easily, they were faded when he finally left Korea, but they were definitely black,

“Aunts and uncles?”

“Ink…” he answered slower this time, uncertain,

“Couples you’ve seen in your travels?”

“Ink…” Billy answered once more, he didn’t understand what Goody was getting at here,

“Anything else those people have in common that, say, you and I may not?” Billy frowned at that, trying to think what Goody was getting at, what could possibly be the difference between them and those others, something that a young man would kill himself over,

"They’re men and women…” Billy said finally, “The scars… it’s because we’re both men,”

“Destined for nought but pain once we find one another…” Goody waxed poetic, as he was wont to do. “Kid must’ve met his soulmate, realised they’d never be able to be together, took his own life,” Billy didn’t need it spelling out, didn’t _want_ it spelling out, he didn’t want to know that because he didn’t want that to be his only option.

“That can’t be…” he whispered,

“Sounds pretty likely to me,” Goody hummed, letting out a tired sigh and moving to stir the fire up a little more, “Sky’s lookin’ a bit grim,” he noted, looking up, Billy followed his gaze to the dark grey above, “Maybe we should start putting up those tents,” and just like that Goody dropped what might have been their deepest conversation yet, standing and beginning to unfurl his tent. They should have done this a while ago but they were tired from the ride, deciding to rest and see how the night went; Billy stood too, opting to help Goody with his rather than starting his own, it proved to be the best idea, as they were just about done pitching it when the wind whistled around them, carrying chunky snowflakes that clung hard to everything.

“Shit,” he cussed,

“Shit indeed, c’mon, get everything in,” Goody ordered, Billy obeyed and they crammed themselves into the little one-man tent along with their saddlebags, they had stripped down to just shirts and trousers and were curled up on their sides, facing each other with their knees touching and barely a lick of space between their close foreheads, “Well this is certainly cosy,” Goody noted, Billy sighed at him, “About those scars,”

“I don’t want to talk about them,”

“Billy,”

“No,”

“Listen then,”

“No,”

“We need to talk about it eventually, what this means,”

“It doesn’t mean a damned thing Goody, go to sleep,” he tried to roll over then, wriggling and squirming until he was on his back, then moving onto his other side, trying to keep as far away from Goody’s warm body as he could, but the confines of the tent made it somewhat difficult.

He didn’t sleep, staring at the edge of the tent about an inch away from his face, listening as Goody’s breathing evened out and he drifted off; he was still lying staring when an arm slipped over him and Goody’s body shifted flush against his back, hot breaths puffing down his neck and sending shivers down his spine.

“Goody,” he whispered, turning his head to squint through the dark at Goody, but he was pretty sure he was still asleep, “ _Goody_ ,” he repeated and the arms slipped tighter, Goody’s nose nudging his cheek as he wriggled closer and shared his warmth. He could feel Goody’s breath ghosting across his face, warm and smelling of whiskey, he twisted in Goody’s arms, looking at his sleeping face, he looked so peaceful, handsome even, Billy felt warmth stir within him and closed his eyes, feeling his lips press to Goody’s, smooth and soft past his facial hair. Goody sighed into the kiss, squeezing him a little tighter and holding their bodies flush together, letting out a soft hum of a sound when Billy turned back over, keeping his back pressed to Goody and feeling heat in his cheeks.

“I suppose that works…” Goody grumbled, Billy’s spine went rigid, he had thought Goody was _asleep_ , so he just stayed still, hoping he’d assume Billy was asleep and not further this, “Come now Billy,” Goody sighed, “not turnin’ shy on me, are you?” Billy didn’t respond, just kept staring ahead and hoping Goody would drop it. He didn’t, instead he nuzzled against the back of Billy’s hair, pressing light kisses to the skin of his neck, which was burning with embarrassment; he didn’t know what to do, Goody’s arms had tightened around him and his lips felt _nice_ against his neck, gentle and inquisitive as they trailed down to the collar of his shirt.

“ _Goody_ …” he whispered,

“Should I stop?” Goody asked, breath hot on his skin, sending another shiver down his spine,

“ _No_ ,” he scrunched his eyes closed as he said it, shuddering pleasantly when Goody pressed another kiss to his neck, he felt Goody’s hands on his body, shifting to the collar of his shirt to unbutton down to mid chest. He felt as Goody eased the shirt away from his shoulder and kissed the newly exposed flesh, a hand sliding inside his shirt to stroke across his chest, squeezing muscle and rubbing a rough thumb over his nipple. He moaned softly then, an involuntary noise that escaped his throat and made him flush with further embarrassment; he wanted to turn to face Goody but wasn’t sure he could bear it, lying still instead, letting Goody kiss and nip at his flesh, letting his hands roam beneath his shirt.

“Is this okay?” Goody asked against his shoulder, trailing his tongue over the hard line of muscle there and making Billy shudder,

“Mhm…” he sighed through his nose,

“Look at me Billy,” Goody whispered, Billy turned his head, peering through the darkness, “Properly,” he moved then, shifting awkwardly in the tent, the two of them soon facing one another once more, Billy looking dishevelled, Goody looking… well… there was a look in his eyes that sent a shiver running through Billy, and like that their lips were melding together, hands tangling in hair and clothes, bodies flush, legs entwined, content just to kiss lazily until they fell asleep in each other’s arms.


	3. Chapter 3

They were snowed in come morning, warmed only by each other, which seemed to be enough as they lay together, tied up in a sleepy embrace,

“We could just stay here, we’re a way off the usual path… the horses are safe…” Goody murmured as he buried his face in Billy’s neck, Billy ran his hands up and down Goody’s back, they’d slipped under his shirt at some point, fingers tracing old scars. “We have food… water’s frozen but we can make do with that,” he was making a good argument, but Billy had decided as soon as he’d woken up and Goody was still holding him that he wasn’t going anywhere today.

“I dunno… you might have to convince me…” he yawned, so comfortable like this it seemed criminal, to enjoy being wrapped up with another man, but it didn’t matter, Goody was _his_ , they had awoken at the same time decades ago in completely different parts of the world, carving their first words into their very skin with blunt fingernails, fated to meet one another and end up like this.

“Hmmm…. How might I do that?” Goody purred, easing closer somehow, pressing a kiss to Billy’s throat, “Like this maybe?” he asked, tracing his lips up Billy’s neck and jaw, finding his lips and laying a chaste kiss against them.

“Maybe…” Billy hummed, kissing him back when their lips touched again, tender little pecks repeating as they curled up together,

“Or maybe like this…” Goody rumbled against his lips, one of his hands trailing down Billy’s back, slipping over a hip as it rounded to Billy’s front and slid between them. Billy gasped as Goody’s fingers curled around his cock through his trousers, blood immediately flowing south to meet those deft fingers and touch back, “Think I’ve sussed it,” Goody chuckled, kissing him again as he slid his hand down the front of Billy’s pants and let cool fingers curl around Billy’s hot cock. Billy moaned and bucked into his hand, squeezing Goody closer and shifting to nuzzle at his throat, having Goody’s hand on him felt amazing, better than his own fingers, rougher and broader but so gentle even as it squeezed the root of his cock and dragged upwards, thumb playing with the foreskin that was easing back as he got harder. He wanted to return his gesture but he didn’t want to let go of Goody, he managed it though, easing his own hand into Goody’s pants and encircling his cock, it felt different to Billy’s own, slightly bigger, and that soft skin at the tip was missing, the head was more pronounced, it felt nice, pleasant in his hand. He felt Goody’s throat vibrate as he moaned, smiling into the skin and slowly beginning to pump his hand in time with Goody’s strokes on _his_ cock. He started to pant as his arousal built, spurred on by the hand touching him and the thick, heavy weight of Goody’s cock in his palm, so smooth and responsive to his touch, especially when he eased his thumb against the seam of the glans. The tent was soon stiflingly hot as they shoved into each other’s hands, panting and moaning and sharing open mouthed, slack jawed kisses, tongues lazily stroking together until the friction of their hands became too much, Goody uttering Billy’s name as he filled his hand with seed, Billy moaning and flooding across Goody’s knuckles.

They lay there panting and sated, sticky fingers still touching the other’s limp cock, just relaxing like that and smiling at one another, “We should’ve done this sooner,” Goody murmured, kissing Billy again. Billy kissed back, deepening the gesture and pushing his hips closer to Goody, rousing himself once more,

“We should do it again,” he uttered against Goody’s lips, smiling wickedly when Goody grinned at him,

“Or we could do something else…” he suggested,

“Oh?” Goody didn’t answer, just moved his come slick hand behind Billy, easing wet fingers between his ass cheeks and rubbing against the tight pucker there, Billy’s expression faltered slightly before the slowly circling digit eased inside him and a little gasp escaped him, “ _Oh_ …” he whispered, relaxing his body and letting the invasion persist, stroking Goody’s cock slowly, intending to get him hard for when those talented fingers were done, “Have you done this before?” he asked breathlessly, jealousy flaring in the pit of his stomach,

“Yes, but… a prostitute…” he looked embarrassed, “She let me do this, said it felt nice…” he admitted,

“It does…” Billy agreed, because that finger was probing deeper into him, brushing something that made his hips jerk and his body shift closer to Goody’s. “Ah,” he gasped when Goody did it again, scowling at the smirk Goody gave him, “stop it,” he hummed though he didn’t _want_ Goody to stop it, he wanted more. He was disappointed when Goody withdrew his finger, about to say he didn’t mean it when Goody brought his hand up and spat on his fingers,

“Needs more slick,” he said before his hand dipped back into Billy’s clothes two fingers circling then pushing into him. It hurt this time, made Billy wince and tense up, but Goody soothed him with a kiss, “shhh,” he whispered, “relax, it’ll feel good soon,” he murmured into Billy’s mouth, kissing him, biting his lip gently, and Billy believed him, withdrawing his sticky hand from Goody’s pants and curling his fingers into the front of Goody’s loose shirt, drawing him ever closer and deepening the kiss with a hint of tongue.

He felt Goody’s fingers shifting inside him, easing in a little deeper, a sigh escaping him at the strange pressure, he didn’t really know what to expect from this, the stretch hurt but wasn’t _bad_ , mild and aching, but it eased off the more Goody shifted his spit-wet fingers, the more their mouths shifted together and Billy relaxed into him. It started to feel nice when Goody pushed in deeper, making him gasp into their kiss, clinging a little tighter, pushing himself back on the gently probing fingers.

Goody eventually pushed a third finger in, loosening Billy as much as he could as the prospect of them coupling made their control dwindle drastically; Billy was hard in his pants, aroused by the gentle shift of fingers within him, especially when they graced that glorious spot Goody had discovered in him.

“Please Goody,” he whispered, the two of them breaking apart, fingers leaving his hot insides, the two of them struggling to completely disrobe in the cramped tent, Goody ended up shivering as his back came in contact with the wall of the tent, the cold of the snow creeping through the fabric. Billy moved beneath Goody, drawing himself up onto his knees and resting his head on his forearms as Goody knelt naked behind him.

“Ready?” Goody asked, Billy looked over his shoulder,

“Yeah… I think so… go slow…” he pleaded softly, closing his eyes and trying to focus on his breathing as Goody slicked up his cock with spit and pushed the blunt head to Billy’s hole. It felt _huge_ compared to those fingers, tapered differently and as it pushed deeper the crown widened, “Shit…” he winced, trembling and tensing. Goody’s hand moved to his back, stroking soothing circles in the dip, whispering soft praise as he stilled himself and let Billy stretch around him,

“It’s okay,” he assured, “just breathe Billy, it’ll feel good soon, I promise,” Billy hoped he was right, sucking sharp breaths through his teeth, he wanted this to feel good, so desperate to connect with Goody like this. It _had_ to feel good, Billy _needed_ it to feel good, “breathe Billy,” he tried, tried so damned hard to breathe through this and relax, but he was struggling; Goody pulled out and Billy moaned softly, relieved that the pressure inside him was gone.

“I want it…” he whispered, “I do Goody…” he glanced over his shoulder, tears pricking his eyes,

“Hey, it’s okay,” Goody soothed, easing his hands up Billy’s back now, leaning over him and kissing a trail down his spine, smoothing those same hands down to Billy’s ass once more, kissing the dip at the base of his spine as he eased wet fingers into him, trying to loosen him more. “We can go slower,” he whispered, resting his cheek on Billy’s skin, clammy with sweat now as he shivered under Goody’s touch.

“Please…” he said softly, pressing his sweating forehead against his forearm, loving the feel of Goody’s fingers in him, but still unsure about the intimate touch of a cock to that place; he wanted it, but it had hurt, “Is that… the only way?” he asked, voice hitching as Goody’s fingers eased him open further and brushed that sweetness within him.

“I can’t say I’m particularly versed in the complicated nature of the intimacies between two men, and I don’t think there is anyone around to ask,” Goody murmured against his skin, chuckling breathily at his own comments. “Should we stop?” he asked, easing himself back and looking at his handiwork,

“No…” Billy hummed, dipping his back and pushing himself onto Goody’s fingers, his cock had softened between his legs when Goody used his cock, but with those nimble fingers back inside him he could feel it finally filling again, “Keep going…” he urged, “I want…” he cut himself off with a moan, “I want it…” he keened, “Try now,” he was almost mewling as he rocked back onto Goody’s fingers, humming low in his throat when those fingers slipped from within him again and Goody’s hand found his hip, that blunt pressure touching him again. He sucked in a breath through his nose, exhaling slowly and nodding his head to a question Goody didn’t even ask, letting out a groan as the head began to slide into him, he let out a hiss when the head popped in, a solid mass within him, easier this time. He felt himself relax as Goody’s hands massaged his hips, stroking and soothing, and he eased himself back, the small gesture encouraging Goody to push further; he felt himself clenching around the intrusion, but not trying to expel it, just _feeling_ it, the stretch was too much at first but as they stilled against one another it started to ease off.

“Billy?” Goody whispered,

“Mhm?” Billy hummed,

“How’s it feeling?” Goody asked, sliding his hands over Billy’s ass, thumbs prying the cheeks apart a little further,

“Okay…” Billy answered, “Better,” he keened, he was inadvertently shifting, not much, just a slight back and forth that had the head of Goody’s cock shifting within him, sending little shocks of pleasure through the ring of muscle it was stretching. “More…” he whispered,

“More?”

“More…” he repeated, letting out a long, drawn out moan as Goody pushed his cock deeper, dragging that thrill through his hole, rubbing that sensitive spot inside him painfully slowly, “Ah…” Goody stilled, “No, keep going,” he urged, the two slowly shifting together, Goody showing some impressive self-restraint as he moaned and praised how tight Billy was, how good he felt, how _right_ this felt, to be sinking so deeply into his hot asshole.

It got easier with time, slow steady fucking soon building up to more as Billy loosened and Goody’s precum eased the passage of his cock, the pleasure growing between them as they started to give themselves into the feeling of being joined like this. Goody slowed when Billy asked him to, listened to every hitch of breath and plea for more or harder or faster, or the complete opposite, when Billy asked him to hold still, _just there_ , shuddering around Goody’s cock as he jerked his own a few times and came with a sob. The friction and the pulsing of Billy’s innards sent Goody soaring over the edge, he cried out Billy’s name, hunching over him and pushing deep into him as his balls emptied into that tight passage, kissing Billy’s shoulder and uttering blissful praise. Feeling his hole so full of Goody and his seed was so strange to Billy, strange but not unpleasant, in fact, he felt _good_ , proud even that Goody had filled his insides, that he’d taken that inside him and enjoyed it.

“Goody…” he gasped when Goody slowly withdrew his cock, the two of them curling up together, sweaty in spite of the cold outside, warmed by their lovemaking, managing to untangle a blanket from one of their saddlebags and wrap it around the two of them just in case the chill crept in.

“How do you feel?” Goody asked, brushing his fingers through Billy’s sweat damp hair,

“Good… sore… but good…” Billy smiled, “I think I can get used to that… just… not for a little while…” he didn’t think he’d be riding any time soon either, but he had a sneaking suspicion that the snow wouldn’t let up for a while, so he’d have time to recover.


End file.
